"Floods hit Western Cape" the newspaper headlines shouted early in July just after we had decided at the spur of the moment to take a much-needed break in the West Coast National Park.

Most people do not associate freezing weather and heavy showers with an enjoyable holiday, but we discovered that the adventurous traveler who braves the Cape winters is rewarded with splendid sights and dramatic experiences that dedicated sun-seekers sometimes miss out on.

The wisdom of solitude

The most splendid aspect of a winter holiday in the West Coast National Park is the solitude. Paul Tillich wrote, “Our language has wisely sensed the two sides of being alone. It has created the word loneliness to express the pain of being alone. And it has created the word solitude to express the glory of being alone.”

Take a break and nourish your soul with some solitude

Gloriously, we had the bird hides and the salt marshes near the historic Geelbek homestead all to ourselves.

Our only companions were of the feathered sort - pelicans, flamingos, gulls and sacred ibises. 308 bird species have been recorded within the park and the WCNP has legendary status amongst birders world-wide.

In spring between 50 000 and 70 0000 birds fly over 15 000kms from Northern Russia in order to spend the summer months feeding in the rich waters of the lagoon.

The beach at Tsaarsbank was our sole domain and we walked along the empty stretch of sand with twelve endangered oyster catchers as our company, their bright red beaks and coal black bodies darting to and fro.

Click here for the gallery.

Following in some special footsteps

The highlight for me, though, came one Wednesday at dusk when instinct told me to drive the 15km from our Duinepos cottage, where my husband and children were snuggling in front of the fire, to Kraalbaai. 

In summer this sheltered beach is packed with bodies and the water teems with rowers, anglers and wind-surfers. But at dusk on the 9th of July 2008, I was the only human on that magnificent shore.

The sun was setting wildly in an overcast sky, and after the gulls had departed croakingly, the air was so silent that the surge and pull of gentle waves lapping the shore was the only sound I could hear.

In the stillness I became acutely aware of those who had gone before me.

I could imagine the elephants, rhinos, hippos, leopards and hyenas that roamed here a mere three hundred years ago.

In my mind’s eye I could see could see a Khoi woman laboriously making her way up a water-soaked dune.

A stone’s throw from where I was sitting, Dr Dave Roberts discovered two beautifully preserved fossilised
footprints of a human who had walked on this beach after a heavy rainstorm, as I was doing 117 000 years later.

A poster at the Geelbek museum explains the miracle of “Eve’s” footsteps:

“Human ancestors have walked the earth for over 4 million years and must have left countless footsteps.

Why then are only four sets known world-wide? It is because an incredibly fortuitous sequence of events must happen. The easily destroyed prints must be rapidly buried by sediments and transformed to rock. After erosion re-exposes them on the surface, they would need to be found quickly, before water and wind destroy them.”

My own footprints in the sand would not survive the millennia, so I immortalised them in light.

Fossil fascination

Two days later I was once again confronted with the past at the West Coast Fossil Park, which is a short twenty-minute drive from the West Coast National Park.

Under canvas the children and I marvelled at the fossilised remains of seven gigantic short-necked giraffes (2.4 meters high at the shoulder), the vertebrae of a young whale and the gleaming teeth of a hippo that was buried near the mouth of the proto-Berg River 5 million years ago.

Fossils were not the only things that fascinated my kids. They loved the freedom of movement they were allowed in the park.

They joyfully rode their bikes in the rain, happening upon red hartebeest and a family of ostriches.

They went looking for the VOC beacon, which once marked the northern boundary of the world’s first corporation in this far-off land. They walked the kilometer or so to the Geelbek restaurant where they indulged in a gigantic slice of cheese cake.

We all agreed that we would be back.

From late July to September the fynbos puts on its Technicolour Dreamcoat like a Biblical Joseph. We want to visit the Postberg section, which is only open from August to September during the spring flowering season.
Not forgetting the waders when they arrive for their summer fest. We want to stay on a houseboat in Kraalbaai and drop from our beds into our kayak every morning.

William Wordsworth lamented that “from our better selves we have too long been parted by the hurrying world”. In a wintry West Coast National Park we found our better selves.

For more information, visit their website.

Also download the Duinepos Chalets brochure.

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